The occasional jottings of a middle-aged husband and father who can see Detroit from his house.

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Friday, November 07, 2008

This is the operative statement. The others are inoperative.

Remember that happy talk about the stomach bug missing Heather and me? It's 50% accurate now. If that's not sufficient to guess who's the suffering party, remember that Heather's immune system laughs derisively at Ebola.

If you're going to spew, spew into this.

[Update, 11/8/08: And then there were two. Rachel has it now. And I look like a scarlet-eyed raccoon, having ruptured the capillaries in the skin around my eyes during last night's festivities. It was so bad I missed saying an office in the Liturgy of the Hours for the first time in four years. Prayers for the family requested. If this is rotovirus, we're in for a miserable ride.]